


a shuffled deck

by Aisu



Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, POV Second Person, basically au fun times, deltashuffle, implied child neglect, shuffle au, swap au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 20:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16940394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aisu/pseuds/Aisu
Summary: A series of four vignettes for four changed heroes, exploring their lives, their journeys, and their fears.Set in the Deltashuffle AU, which rotates the roles of the main four and various side characters.





	a shuffled deck

**Author's Note:**

> I hold a huge debt of thanks to everyone in a certain Discord (you know who you are) for helping me develop this AU. In particular, Susie here has been shaped heavily by Austell, and Ralsei has been influenced by Ken, but listen, I love all of you.

It's nice, outside the classroom, in this little tiled corridor. A little boring, maybe, but that's fine. You've always had ways to amuse yourself - counting tiles, trying to fiddle with the water fountain, spinning in idle circles.

Soon enough they'll call you back in, and they'll ask if you know why what you did was wrong, and you'll mumble some apology and go back to keeping yourself out of the way. Building stuff with Legos that the other kids can laugh at, or drawing up elaborate machines when you should be paying attention, or something else that won't get you in trouble but that won't help you either.

You want to leave the school, grab your bike from where it's parked outside, and ride. Ride anywhere else. Just keep biking and go, until you find somewhere new, somewhere where they want to hear your stories and play your games and look at your plans. Somewhere where you're not 'that kid'. 'That kid broke the water fountain again', 'that kid claimed the jungle gym as his domain', 'that kid tried to force poor Hissy to be in his 'squad'', 'that kid's crying and I don't know why', 'does anyone know where that kid's parents are?'.

Surely, there must be somewhere that's not here.

Just as you're about to seriously start walking for the door, though, to head out onto the street, there's a quiet sound down the hallway. You turn to see someone emerging from the high school classroom - dressed all in green and pink, head lowered, moving quietly along.

You grin just a bit.

No matter what, Ralsei always spends time with you. Ralsei always puts up with you. Ralsei calls you by your name, when he speaks at all. Ralsei gets flustered when you taunt him, instead of just rolling his eyes and walking away like everyone else.

"Yo, Spearmint Boy!" you call out, heading towards him. "Decided to join your boss in the cool classroom?"

He looks at you, for a moment, but says nothing at all.

That's fine too.

As long as he lets you stick around, this is close enough to friendship.

You walk along with him, talking to no one in particular, and you tell yourself this is what you want.

\---

The edge of the world sucks.

You sit on the stone floor of the courtyard, looking out at nothing. It's almost time, you think. You can feel the prophecy burning just underneath your skin, and it takes effort to not mumble the words aloud to yourself.

The prophecy is part of you, after all. It doesn't matter if you could barely make your way through the dry scrolls and crumbling manuscripts. You'd known what they said like it was in your blood.

That, too, is part of the prophecy.

You hate the $@!$ing thing so $@!$ing much.

At first, it had seemed like a challenge to set yourself against. If you were truly part of a legend, if you were truly some destined hero, surely you could change the world on your own. And so you had charged at the castle of the kings - and the King of Hearts had almost gently pulled you out and barred the door.

So you had changed tactics. If you were a guide, a leader, surely you could lead others. You had spoken to people, one by one, learning to hear, learning to channel the anger in you into something like a weapon. And you had lead an army to the gates.

They had turned against you so easily when the kings had emerged, melting away as if they had never been there.

It was the King of Hearts who stayed the hands of the others. It was the Duchess at his side who had given you your sentence, even if she had murmured it into the King's ear.

And so you had been left at the edge of the world, chained and bound, waiting for the end.

Waiting to play your part.

The guide. The oracle. The lost and lonely princess. Trusting in the others to set you free.

You hear footsteps approaching, slowly. Look up to see two heroes approaching, one in green mage's robes, one in a blue coat covered in wrenches and tools.

"Hey," you rasp, throat dry. "Free me."

You see the moment's hesitation in the mage's eyes (and the flicker of red beneath, betraying someone else's doubt).

That's fine.

You've never needed anyone but yourself to save you.

You break through the first chain, and the crack of metal sounds like hope.

\---

Your father has said, a gentle paw on your shoulder, that you are the future of the Darkners, the one who will someday lead the kingdoms back into the light.

Your father has told you of the cruelties of Lightners, of how they discarded those they tired of, of how the prophecy is a cruel false hope.

You wonder sometimes if, in the wake of the Knight's work, your father has forgotten what's underneath your mask.

On the good days, you forget too. You disappear beneath the hearts and you become just another resident, pulling pranks, laughing, joking, and there is no strain at all.

This is not one of the good days.

You stand opposite Lancer, and your hands are shaking even as you try to make your way through the speech that you've prepared. You don't trust yourself to talk without the words to guide you. "I cannot trust your kindness," you say, and your voice cracks. "I cannot trust the mercy of Lightners. And if it is you or my people, you or--or da--the king, then... then I, the scion of darkness, the heir of hearts, will do what I must."

Lancer smiles at you, weakly, and he looks so, so young. You remember you were that young, once, when you fell, when you found hope.

When you found someone you could be, someone who was not the trembling, odd-eyed child who had run from everything.

"No, you're right," he says, and you hate that his voice is shaking too. "I'd probably mess up saving everyone, too. Messed up everything else so far."

He shrugs.

"But I've always been pretty good at breaking stuff."

"Violence has always been the domain of the searing light," you say, and your voice is soft. "Let's see which of us is better at it."

You throw your cloak wide and you aim the cannon bolted to your arm. A prop, a toy. Another thing to add to the image of the cool and mysterious knave of hearts.

It doesn't matter that it's fake. That it’s empty.

When you fire, with anger in your heart - that is all a human needs to do harm.

(But you aim wide.)

\---

When you get back, Lancer hugs you for a few long seconds before running out the door.

You watch him go, then turn to leave yourself.

There's texts from Seam, telling you to not be late for dinner, as casual as ever. The sun is setting, though, and you suspect you're already running late.

It doesn't matter. It's a beautiful day. Plenty of people to talk to, plenty of things to see.

"Thoust seems quieter than thoust usual selfe," one of your teachers remarks, as you watch him try to set up some sort of traffic cone based puzzle in the middle of the road.

"Yo, you okay? You're looking kind of dazed," a classmate says, leaning over. "You still good to work on our project this weekend? I, uh, kind of haven't gotten started, ha ha."

"TOPSY-TURVY, EVERYTHING SPINS AROUND!" your father says, taking you by the hands and twirling you in circles like you were a child again.

(He frowns, a little, when you barely respond.)

You smile, and walk, and meet everyone old and new, and enjoy the fading sunlight on your fur. 

When you get home, Seam greets you with a lazy wave of a paw. You talk, for a bit, rehashing old ground, grousing about your father, discussing school, briefly mentioning you have new friends.

You return to your bedroom, full of soft and gentle things, blankets and stuffed animals and scarves and all the little trappings of the gentle world you've made for yourself.

You climb into bed, slowly.

The weight in your chest slows, and stills, but you do not move, just stare into space.

Today was so wonderful.

Why would you ruin it by fighting against the thing that made everyone else so, so happy?


End file.
